


Black and White

by Jam_less



Category: Jicheol - Fandom, Kpop - Fandom, SEVENTEEN - Fandom, svt
Genre: Angst, M/M, Soulmate AU, everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:28:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jam_less/pseuds/Jam_less
Summary: Black and white.And everything in between.Every day passing by, the dull shades swallowing his surroundings, stripping the life from every tree, every plant, every person. There was no escaping it.Yet, not once did it bother Choi Seungcheol. Such shades of dark and light were all he had ever known, the only reality he had ever seen. Colors were a lost fantasy, their beautiful shades known only to those who had found their other half. Those who had met their soulmate.





	Black and White

Black and white.   
And everything in between.   
Every day passing by, the dull shades swallowing his surroundings, stripping the life from every tree, every plant, every person. There was no escaping it.   
Yet, not once did it bother Choi Seungcheol. Such shades of dark and light were all he had ever known, the only reality he had ever seen. Colors were a lost fantasy, their beautiful shades known only to those who had found their other half. Those who had met their soulmate.   
They were something unexplainable, colors were. Young children begged adults to describe to them the beauty and livelihood of colors, looking up with sparkling black and white eyes as they tried to imagine the world in such wonderful shades, their minds unable to produce such vivid images, such depth of light and dark.   
It was always the same, the impossible questions, receiving the same answer every time. Eventually, the anticipation died down, the world seeming unchangeable, such a strange concept of colors far from thought. It had been years since Choi Seungcheol had wondered what beauty the world could hold with colors coating every object, transforming them into new images, new experiences. The excitement of searching for his soulmate lost, his focus set solely upon the one thing that he felt was closest to colors for him.   
Music.   
But to him, music proved more valuable than colors, not selective in who could hear the charming notes or peaceful melodies. Music held back no secrets, the beauty of sound free to hear as often or to whatever extent you chose. And to Seungcheol, this was enough.   
In fact, to him it was better than the dream of colors, because it was real, and he could hold it in his very hand, scribbling across a sheet of paper to give it life.   
It was exactly this, that Seungcheol happened to be doing as he stepped onto the bus, earbuds sending the melody into his head as he searched for inspiration from every note, writing down in his little notebook every idea that came to mind.   
He quickly took a seat before continuing his search for inspiration, taking no notice of his surroundings as he sat on the bus, until he finally looked up, searching to see if the bus was coming up to his stop soon.   
"Shit," he mumbled, watching helplessly as the bus passed the station he had wished to get off at.  
He signaled the bus to let him off at the next stop, closing his notebook and watching anxiously as he continued to get further and further from where he had been going.   
Finally, with a high-pitched squeal, the bus came to a stop, the doors opening. Seungcheol quickly grabbed his bag and shot towards the door. As he stepped off the bus onto solid ground, he turned back to thank the bus driver, his words barely able to escape his mouth before he felt himself collide with something, the force almost enough to knock him over, though he just managed to keep his feet under him.  
Taking a moment to recover, Seungcheol looked up to see who he had accidentally run into, only to find a strange sensation taking over him as he found himself staring at a new world, stunning colors painting his surroundings.  
It was nothing like he had imagined, shades of light giving each object a depth it had been missing, though he hadn't realized it until now. The strange, hidden beauty of everything around him was almost overwhelming, his eyes unable to process the different world he now saw.   
Yet, the most noticeable thing was the boy who lay on his back on the ground in front of him, propped up on his elbows, his eyes sparkling up at Seungcheol with wonder.   
The boy looked to be about 12, though Seungcheol guessed he was actually a few years younger than himself. He had dyed blond-white hair and pale skin. A black hoodie that was a few sizes to large adorned him, along with ripped skinny jeans, and black tennis shoes. His face was lit up as he looked up at Seungcheol, and the older boy couldn't help but smile at how cute he found the awed expression.  
There was no need to ask if he saw the colors too, the sparkle of curiosity and wonder in the boy's soft brown eyes giving away that Seungcheol wasn't alone in this new experience.   
"It's beautiful," the boy whispered in awe, yet his eyes were staring straight at Seungcheol as he said this, his attention only on the boy who stood over him.  
A smile split Seungcheol's lips as he offered a hand to help the other boy up. "No," he breathed, leaning forward to whisper in the boy's ear as he took his outstretched hand, "you're beautiful."  
A sly smile slid across his face as he responded, "No, I'm Jihoon," but a light red blush had found its way to his cheeks.   
"Well, nice to meet you Jihoon," Seungcheol responded, "I'm Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

It had never crossed Seungcheol's mind before that day, that maybe, just maybe, when people spoke of the colors they saw in such wonder, such awe, that what was truly going through their mind was the sparkling eyes of the person who had brought such wonder into their life.   
At least when Chan, his younger neighbor who he tutored in math, questioned him about the world of colors, the only thing in Seungcheol's mind as he spoke was the blond-white hair, sparkling soft brown eyes and blushed, light pink cheeks of Jihoon. He couldn't push out of his thoughts the witty, sharp comments made by the younger boy, or his constantly wandering mind, finding meaning and inspiration where nobody else could.   
He couldn't explain that beauty to Chan, the way his heart leaped at how he could fit the younger boy's hand inside his own, or the soft, sweet sensation that had coursed through his body when he had leaned in for their first kiss, short and sweet, just like the boy himself. So instead, he spoke in awe of the colors that seemed drowned out by the new person who had entered his life, who had taken over his entire world.   
Every second he spent with Jihoon was better than the last, filling him with the sweetness of having someone who he could stare at for hours without getting bored, someone who shared the same passion he felt for not only each other, but for music as well.   
Jihoon, it turned out, took voice lessons and composed songs, of which Seungcheol couldn't seem to get enough. He took every chance he could get to listen to the younger boy's beautiful voice, accompanying Jihoon to his recording studio and pretending to be doing his own thing while he left one earbud out of his ear so he could listen, or sitting cross-legged outside the bathroom with his back leaning against the door as he listened to Jihoon's stunning voice echo out from where he sang in the shower.   
It was the sweet, stunning ring of an angel's voice that pushed Seungcheol to fall even further for Jihoon, that made him believe fully that he had an angel as his soulmate. It was the only way he could justify the magnificence of the younger boy. From his perfect voice, to his beautiful features that left Seungcheol breathless, the older boy was unable to go through a minute of his life without thinking about the little angel he had been blessed with.   
He would always make room in his schedule to sit outside the dance studio and watch as Jihoon went through and created difficult, yet stunning choreographies. His style was much different from Seungcheol's own. Instead of strong, powerful motions, Jihoon moved in a graceful, smooth and confident way that gave his motions the powerful feel of Seungcheol's dancing without the jerky, chopped up movements he seemed to be plagued with. Jihoon could spin across the floor and move himself in ways that were nothing other than intoxicating to the older boy who couldn't seem to get enough of him.  
It was because of this, that every day Seungcheol spent with Jihoon, he thanked life for being so generous to him. Every second spent with the younger boy was a blessing, an act of generosity bestowed upon him for reasons beyond his understanding.   
Even three years after meeting Jihoon, he took nothing for granted, having grown very close with the boy who had swept him off his feet, despite how stable they had been.   
Every morning that he woke up next to the younger boy brought so much joy into his day, though there were many in which he would awaken to find himself alone, the bed impossibly big, as Jihoon had already gotten up to go to work, leaving Seungcheol to lay in a cold, empty bed, his thoughts only focused on when he would see his little blessing again.  
It was one such morning, three years after their accidental meeting that Seungcheol awoke without the promise of seeing Jihoon again that day, the younger boy having left on a trip out of town to get signed into a new company who was interested in him after his debut album had been widely popular and successful.  
He had watched as the taxi Jihoon had called drove out of their driveway the day before, headed towards the airport with Seungcheol's angel in it's back seat. Every second he watched it drive away, he felt himself wishing more and more that Jihoon had forgotten something and would turn back at any moment to get it, yet the car drove on, never once stopping in its tracks.   
The emptiness of the room was just bearable, the quiet of the house as he walked down the hallway creating the feeling that something was missing, a hole burrowing it's way into the house that only Jihoon could fill.  
Yet despite the silence and the empty rooms, joy could be pulled from the memories each object held, Seungcheol finding himself alone, but accompanied by the few years of memories he had in this house. He found himself watching as Jihoon sipped from his usual navy-blue coffee mug, having already drank at least three cups of the extra strong, dark brown liquid. The younger boy would be sitting, hunched over the newspaper or his journal, scrawling frantically across page after page to write down all the notes that filled his head before they left and never reappeared, biting his lip and scrunching his nose in concentration.   
He watched as another perfectly sharpened yellow pencil was pulled from the jar he always kept full, only to be replaced with the one Jihoon had grabbed the day before, it's tip now filed down more than Seungcheol had thought humanly possible, but the eraser left untouched, as Jihoon found it useless and time-wasting to erase any mistakes, preferring to keep old ideas for future reference and deciding for himself that "there is no such thing as a mistake."  
Seungcheol's eyes flitted across the room once more, finding the dark brown journal in which a brilliant composer took the ideas he scribbled in the small pocket notebook he kept on him at all times and inspected them, removing anything he saw as unfit and developing the ideas until he almost had fully composed songs. Each page in the notebook had a corresponding file in the composer's computer, located across the hall from his bedroom, in a quiet room where he stayed up way longer than what is healthy to experiment with his songs and lyrics, composing, touching up and editing every little detail until everything was perfect. Then, if the song pleased him, Jihoon would set it aside for later, deciding that he would release it in his next album, or that it would have to wait in his computer files, where hundreds of other finished songs were just sitting, unheard by anyone other than Jihoon, and possibly Seungcheol. Yet, if the song didn't please the young genius, he set it aside for later, or started the process over, taking apart every tiny detail and putting it back together until it fit in a satisfying way.   
Nowhere in this cycle of creation did Jihoon give up on a song or delete it, but instead he would set the half-finished wonders aside for another time, whether it be hours, days, weeks or months before he re-opened the file and saw something he hadn't before, something that allowed him to made the last few edits and set the song aside once more, this time as a finished work.   
As Seungcheol thought of the room where all of this happens, he couldn't help but smile at the bright blue wallpaper, chocolate hardwood floor, cushioned black chair, dark grey electric piano with black and white keys, and wooden desk at which Jihoon's computer sat. Other than these few select items, Jihoon's room of creation was empty, his excuse being that other things drew away his attention from the work he set out to do, and that what he had there was all that he needed for composing. All that he wanted.   
This, along with his idea that there was no such thing as a mistake in his work was very different from Seungcheol's own composing. He too carried around a small handbook to write down lyrics and ideas that would flood into his brain because of a random sight, scent, noise, or feeling, but he preferred a pen over a pencil, something Jihoon thought crazy.   
In his own office he had his large desk, on which he had a cup of pens, a work lamp, his computer, a couple of protein bars, his journal and a ring holder Jihoon had bought him as a gift one year. He had lined his walls with shelves, on which he set pictures, toys, antiques, books, and other items that he could look at for any sort of inspiration. One of the walls, the one opposite the door, was just a large window, the crystal-clear glass allowing him a view of the outer world where he watched people passing by, imagining their lives and visualizing their problems or joys so that he could fit them into his lyrics, giving a sense of depth into each word that he worked hard to add, watching with slight envy as magnificent lyrics seemed to flow from Jihoon with an ease that frustrated and fascinated him at the same time.  
Everywhere he looked in the house there was some sort of reminder of the absent young boy, a door into past memories, a trail of where he had been or where he had yet to be.   
Be it the navy blue coffee mug, his cup of pencils, the stuffed animals piled in his closet, or the red alarm clock he set every day, comforting traces of Jihoon could be found in every room, and it was to these items that Seungcheol was drawn to in his absence.   
He plucked out one of Jihoon's pencils, smiling at the way it slid across the paper as he wrote, imagining his counterpart leading the pencil confidently as he left a trail of neat graphite across the page.   
A minute later, he tucked the note, on which he had written down everything he needed from the grocery store, into his pocket and refilled Jihoon’s navy blue mug, which he had decided to use today, with some of the coffee he brewed every morning. As he did so, he decided to save the coffee and just warm it up the next day, knowing he would never be able to finish the dark brown liquid without Jihoon there to drink his usual three to five cups every morning.  
Having come to this decision, Seungcheol poured out what was left of the coffee into a large plastic bottle and set it in the fridge for the next morning. He grabbed his keys on the way to the door, pulling them off the little rack Jihoon had bought so he would stop losing them.   
Taking a sip of his coffee, Seungcheol swung open the front door, looking up to find the world around him dull and lifeless.  
The red lights of his car no longer blinked their greeting at him, the flowers he and Jihoon had planted no longer popping out of their surroundings as they used to, but blending into the same background tone that now covered everything.   
He was so focused on the world in front of him, that Seungcheol took no notice of the once rich navy blue mug shattering against the concrete at his feet.   
His legs gave way as he struggled to take in what was happening, unable to accept the fact that, once more, the world was black and white.

 

Silence was all that could be heard from where Seungcheol sat, splayed out on the once rich brown hardwood floor of Jihoon’s office. His dark eyes focused on the scene in front of him, the faded brown desk with the silver computer sitting atop it, it’s screen black, having been untouched since it’s little owner had last sat at that desk and stayed up all night to finish the last song he would ever compose, over a year ago.   
When he had died, Jihoon had quenched the world of its beauty, stripping away the most valuable reminder of himself. It was something Seungcheol had heard many times, spoken by the old who had lost their soulmates.   
He had been told of the way the colors disappeared, most vanishing as soon their soulmate died, while others were only dimmed by death, still painting the places and things that the now dead person had been around most often during their life.   
It was as if to be a reminder of Jihoon, the dull colors, much diminished from their former glory. Each hue faded even more every day, until the only place where he could find the fading memories was in Jihoon’s office, the place he had locked himself in for hours on end, every single day.   
The white and grey sunlight that spilled from the window splashed across Seungcheol as he slowly stood, his fingers trailing across the once bright blue walls of the room as he walked towards the desk in front of him.   
Even closing his eyes, Seungcheol found with regret that he was unable to call back an image of this room, painted in color, a little angel sitting at the chair in front of him.   
He couldn’t recall what any of the colors had once looked like, finding that even blue, Jihoon’s favorite color, was dull and tinted with grey when he closed his eyes to imagine it.  
Despite the fact that he had never cared for the colors close to as much as he had cared for Jihoon, Seungcheol now found himself wishing they wouldn’t disappear, his life with the younger boy seeming to become further away as the washed out tones faded even more.   
As his fingers trailed along the faintly colored desk, Seungcheol was brought back to before he had met Jihoon, remembering how little he had cared for the idea of colors, or even a soulmate. And yet, here he stood, finally realising the significance of each tinted hue, wishing he could see his soulmate for even a second, or hear his voice ringing out as it once had.   
It was because of this longing, this need, that Seungcheol found himself sitting back into Jihoon’s chair, the silence of the room interrupted by the whirring of the silver computer coming to life once more.   
It took only a few seconds before the screen flashed, opening to where Jihoon had left it so long ago, the song he had been composing sitting open in front of Seungcheol.   
There was a moment of hesitation as the mouse hovered over the screen, before Seungcheol brought down his finger, pressing play and listening closely as music flowed through his ears.   
The beginning of the song had a soft entrance, every note perfectly placed to flow with the melody, adding onto the perfection that Jihoon had created.   
As he heard the first few words of the song, Seungcheol felt his heart leap from his chest, memories flooding back, triggered by the angelic voice that now flooded the room with a new light, adding color that Seungcheol hadn’t seen before.   
With every word, he could imagine Jihoon there, smiling at him with sparkling eyes, his fingers flowing over the keys of his piano as he poured his heart and soul into every word he sang, every note he played.   
He was gone, and yet, as Seungcheol closed his eyes, he could feel the presence of the younger boy, singing to him from right there, in the very room he sat, where a he had left a little piece of himself for Seungcheol to find.

**Author's Note:**

> Please go check out my editor on twitter, she was amazing and I couldn't have done this without her!  
> @yoongi_baby_bts


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